


You should see me in a crown

by ravenpuff1956



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Dark Newt, Dark Tina, Dark newtina, Drama & Romance, F/M, Good and Evil, Mind Games, Psychological Drama, Sisterly Love, chosing a side
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:21:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22797751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenpuff1956/pseuds/ravenpuff1956
Summary: Dumbledore promised the mission would go smoothly.He promised Newt would make it out unscathed.He promised his creatures would all be safe.That man has promised Newt too many things.
Relationships: Queenie Goldstein/Jacob Kowalski, Tina Goldstein/Newt Scamander
Comments: 4
Kudos: 31





	You should see me in a crown

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone!
> 
> This is something that I've been thinking about for a while, exploring Newt and Tina's relationship if they choose a darker path.  
> I understand this won't be everyone's cup of tea, but for those who it is I hope you enjoy!  
> I'm trying to keep the essence of these characters while mixing with their morals, so please let me know if I succeed.

Dumbledore promised the mission would go smoothly. He promised Newt would make it out unscathed. He promised his creatures would all be safe.

That man has promised Newt too many things.

Newt’s knees are aching. Germany is cold. Especially when you’re in a dank, dark cell. There’s a gap, not bigger than his nail between two pieces of stone. He’s slowly edging his finger between it; his skin rubbing raw. He’s not sure what’s on the other side.

But any thing is better than being in Grindlewald’s clutches.

Than being in hers.

_Revelio._

Hard stones prickle the back of his ankles. Newt rips his finger out from the incriminating crack. Hot blood drips down his finger.

They are here. He can feel them, their hot breath on his neck.

Newt resists the urge to tidy himself up. All days are night down here. He smells like a sewer; his clothes are sweaty rags. The hard price of holding on.

“How nice it is to see you again Newt,” Queenie chirps cheerfully, “It’s been far too long,” Newt flinches. She knows very well it’s only been a day since they've last visited him.

They come every day. It must be the same time.

He has nothing to do; all day, all night, except to wait for them. Sometimes he talks to himself. Sometimes there’s food. He tries to only sleep when he’s tired, but sometimes he can’t help it. It’s torture. The kind of torture that turns your mind to mush, and your 

“Don’t be like that,” The American Witch croons, “Come now, let’s see your face,” Newt does his best to drill himself hard into the ground, willing himself to be as heavy as humanly possible. He’s bereft of his wand and his case. Even his Pickett has been ripped away from him.

No doubt she took care of that.

“Circumrota,” A voice whispers, and he finds himself turning without consent. Newt blinks into the blinding wand light.

Two pairs of feet stand in front of him. One woman wears gleaming white pumps, covered in delicate diamantes. The other wears delicate shoes made of black leather, in a neat simple style, with a murderous heel.

Her feet are so small.

There’s a mole by her ankle.

Newt shakes with the effort to not look up.

“Hello Mr Scamander,” Tina greets him quietly. There’s none of the venom Newt was honestly hoping to hear. This would be easier if she sounded like she hated him.

Instead she sounds sweet. Like a breath of sweet air. Nothing like she was in the Paris sewers.

This is rooftop Tina. Salamander Tina. His Tina.

The one he dreams about when he lets himself.

“Ohh he’s dreamt about you Teenie,” Queenie claps her hands together like a school girl. Even now Newt can sense their mutual embarrassment. He’s not sure if that makes him flush harder.

“Don’t be shy Newt,” Queenie giggles brightly, “Teens been dreaming about you too,” There’s a long silence.

Newt’s eyes flicker up.

Queenie’s winning smile shines brighter than the sun. But Tina’s eyes are like burning coals. Newt’s immediately warm, just by looking at them. Her hair is longer, her fringe grown out. There’s a small quirk to her lips. An amused one. A longing one.

Newt looks away, heart pounding. He pretends he doesn’t notice how straight her shoulders are. How content she looks. How happy.

“My creatures,” Newt pleads through dry lips. It’s the only thing he allows himself to say at these meetings. He only thing he tells himself he cares about.

“They’re fine honey,” Queenie brushes his fear aside with an air of boredom. Newt grinds his teeth down, anxiety tearing at his chest. Is anyone feeding them? Have they hurt them? Theseus told him stories about all kinds of apparent experiments that made him ill. If they’ve hurt them, he’ll kill them.

Except her.

Never her.

Maybe Grindlewald is right. He is weak.

A soft hand caresses his cheek. Newt turns away. He’s crying. He’s showing weakness. Why must he always show weakness. Tina brushes them gently away. A lover’s touch. One he yearns to trust.

Newt can’t afford even to breath.

She’s watching. Queenie’s listening.

There’s no escape.

“I’m looking after them myself,” Tina informs him sultrily, stroking his skin. As if she happens to know that the image of her, all dirty and sweaty, fiddling around in his case, turns him on. It doesn't. _It doesn't._

Newt clenches his clammy hands. Tina’s sharp nails dig into the back of his neck. A small squeak leaves his lips.

“It’s for the Greater Good,” Tina whispers. Her breath is hot and minty. Newt’s breath tastes like a latrine. He doesn’t know how she can stand to stay so close to him. He glad she does.

Tina always finds a way to touch him.

Sometimes Newt thinks he wants to touch her back.

He must be going mad.

“The Greater Good,” Queenie reiterates.

The silence that comes next is expectant.

Newt chews on his broken lips and says nothing. Tina’s dark eyes narrow. She leans closer. Her nose is ice cold as it brushes against his burning cheek. Something spider like, something with spindly prongs tickles his neck. He can’t tell if it is an arachnid or her long elegant fingers.

“Don’t betray me Mr Scamander,” Tina warns him darkly. Her sweet lips brush a slither of his skin. Newt feels his head subconsciously fall forward.

Like a fly in a spider web.

Tina pulls away, her red plump lip caught between her white teeth. From where Newt is slumped, it looks like a fang. She would destroy him. She has. She’s going to destroy them all.

Newt’s neck stings where her claws dug into him. His skin tingles from her lips. His groin burns.

Queenie threads her arm through her sister, whispering something in the shell of her ear. Tina laughs. The sound bounces off the walls like the sound of a gunshot. Newt hugs his knee to his chest.

Tina thread her arm through Queenie’s that night. They stepped through the blue tipped flames, hand and hand like children.

Newt wants to rip the smiles off their faces.

He wants to hug them, hold them close.

He wants to kiss the length of her neck, return the favour of her teasing.

“See you tomorrow Newt,” Queenie waves cheerily as they take a step backwards. Tina winks, her eyelashes fluttering prettily. She waves her wand and large black stones fall back into place.

Newt’s world is dark again.

Something itches his throat. His hand comes up to scratch his skin. What he finds is nothing less than a miracle. 

“Pick?” He breathes incredulously. His trusty bowtruckle chrips back in agreement. The leafy creature snuggles behind his ear. Newt picks him off, cradling him between his palms.

Newt quickly does the best assessment he can do blind. He’s a normal weight. His leafs are straight and healthly. His spines are not too dull, nor to pointy. Pickett has neither been mistreated or had the fortune of poking anyone’s else out.

Tina. She wasn't lying. 

Newt hugs his squeaking creature to his chest. A friend. She's given him a friend. Pickett's spindly arms wrap around him, picking playfully at the rotting thread keeping his buttons together.

“You could get me out,” Newt blathers to his old friend. His fingers blindly trying to find the crack. He could get out. Get them all out. All the poor people they’ve trapped in here. He could go back to Dumbledore, back to his brother.

Back to the light. 

Picketts magical fingers easily thread their way through. Newt feels himself smile for the first time in weeks. 

He can also feel Tina’s lipstick on his cheek.

It’s sticky. Newt touches it with his thumb, before bringing it to his bottom lip.

No Tina.

Outside has no Tina. 

He can still smell her perfume where it lingers on his skin. How long would it be before it got washed off, if he made it home? 

He leans his head up against his prisons wall. Pickett falls asleep, a ball on his chest.

Eventually Newt joins him, falling.

He's falling. But into what?

Slumber?

Or her?

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to tell me what you think!


End file.
